I'm back on the road after stopping for a week to visit Dave in Waterloo. Let's see, where did I leave off? Sharbot lake. Well, let me tell you, there is nothing more lonely and desperate than a man alone in the wilderness, sick as a dog. I came down with the nastiest head cold and spent the night writhing on the shore of lake sharbot with a migraine. I don't think I slept at all that night. I started out again with the sun, feeling as weak as a kitten. The wind had picked up over night so I fought my way all the way to Kaladar, "The little town with a big heart", so the sign said on the way in. Well, I decided that I was going to hitchhike down the 7 a little bit, because I was already exhausted. I don't know how long I held my thumb up, but I didn't get anywhere. So much for the "big heart". So I got back on my bike and kept pushing. After a while, somewhere between Kaladar and Actinolite, I stopped next to a chip wagon to read my map at the picnic tables. "Nanna and Papa's chip wagon" it was called. It wasn't long before "Papa" came out to ask me where I was from and where I was going. So I told him. Well, wouldn't you know it but he was heading my way and had a pick-up truck for my bike and would be happy to take me along if I would just wait for him to go get the oil changed and pick up some "hamburgs" for Nanna. I never even asked! So I waited around for him, and in the mean time, Nanna gave me ice cream and peaches and pie, telling me that her's is the chip stand that's "full of love", and that as long as they make enough to survive, they're happy to give away the rest. Well Nanna (aka Gloria) told me that Papa (aka Jim) and her had been together 49 years, had five kids, even had great-grandchildren, one of whom is eleven years old already! Nanna told me all about her family and her life until Jim got back, and we packed up the pickup and drove down the 7, stopping at their home in Actinolite to feed the cat, and at Havelock for coffee (or in my case hot chocolate) - Jim's treat. We kept down the 7 and by-passed Peterborough as Jim told me what this country needs is another war, and less immigrants, because otherwise we wouldn't know who to fight, as well as frequent jokes about how much faster it was going in a car as opposed to a bike and how I sure was making it further than I must've thought I would this mornin'. Though I obviously don't agree with his political views, I nonetheless enjoyed his company all the way to Oshawa. I biked a little more that night and pitched camp in an abandonned baseball field in Ajax, after having a peculiar encounter with an old woman and her dog (I don't want to talk about it). At dawn I was back on my bike and it wasn't long before I was in Toronto. I didn't like it there. It was ugly and the people were mean. Consequently, I had my most productive day of biking to date. I barrelled through Toronto at a break-neck pace. I made it all the way to Guelph by nightfall, and went down to the local bar. Now for those of you who have not been to Ontario, Ontario is a fascist state. Upon entry into the bar I was told that my bags were not allowed inside the bar, could not be stored behind the bar, that my I.D. was insufficient (I had enough I.D. to cross the border, but not to get into an Ontario bar) oh and by the way could I take off my bandana since they are not permitted either. After trying a few bars, I found one that would accept my identification and my Bandana (though notably not my bags) and stayed there for the evening while keeping a watchful eye on my bags outside. I met a nice fellow who decided to make up for all the mean people I'd met so far in Guelph and we shot some pool and made fun of the tough-guy bartender. I met a nice bartender named Kelly and we chatted when she had time, and we exchanged numbers before I left. I met some drunk frat-boy types who offered their couch to me for the night, and I accepted. With the morning I left again and made Waterloo in no time. I noticed I was quite sore from the day before's exertions. I got to Dave's (David de Koos, my oldest friend who had been studying at Waterloo university) and crashed out on the couch. I stayed there for a week, going out in the evenings to the local bars, but found them to be quite awful. People go to bars around there to get really drunk or pick up women. No exceptions. Well, no exceptions but me. I went down on saturday to visit kelly in guelph, and we spent the day before her shift together. It was fun and Kelly turned out to be quite nice. We parted ways and I jumped on a bus that was going to a Hoedown of all things, on a whim. I found myself in the middle of the country where a few country bands were playing in an old barn, and I listened to what turned out to be very good music as a thunderstorm raged outside. I snuggled up to a lovely girl named Olivia whom I'd met along the way and who I seemed to have instant chemistry with. We left together and got a lift back to Guelph, and we went for a walk in the rain holding hands. It was wonderful until she decided that the fact that I was leaving meant she couldn't get close to me, even in the platonic sense. I would try to change her mind over the course of my week in Waterloo, but to no avail. In the morning I found my way back to waterloo. I spent the rest of the week in that beer-swilling, culturally destitute pick-up bar called Waterloo... Well maybe that is a bit more harsh than I intended. Nonetheless, I was happy to leave Toronto and its satellites behind me for the open road. I biked out of Waterloo to Woodstock where I camped for the night behind a couple of billboards. Tim Horton's and some type of lubricant as I remember. Also, I was five feet from the railroad tracks I would discover much to my surprise when the first train came roaring and blaring by. I swear, I was feeling the ground underneath me just to make sure I wasn't ON the tracks. It was a cold night, though I didn't feel it since I was still a little bit tipsy from Charles Dicken's Pub, apparently the only decent place in woodstock. I had met a Scotsman who insisted upon buying me pint after pint of guiness. He was apparently hiding from his wife who would be giving birth in a week, and it was quite apparent that he would be in big trouble when he got home. The bartender jokingly blamed me for his getting as drunk as he was, because "he wouldn't have drunk so much had he not found you to talk to." He apologized for not giving me a place to stay for the night, but he was in enough trouble with the wife as it was. Back on the road in the morning. I passed a couple of little towns before hitting London, finally a town with a sense of humor! My first sight in London was a strip club called Famous Flesh Gordon's that advertised "We cranked our AC so the girls can cut glass. Come in for a peek, any more than that and you might lose an eye." Next to it was a bakery called "Buns Master" which advertised this week's special as white bread. They must get the most disoriented and confused customers, shocked at having stumbled into an actual honest to goodness bakery. Every block in London held a similar gem, such as a sex shop bearing the slogan "Partners come & go, and so do batteries!", St. Patrick's church which had a cheasy likeness of St. Patrick encased in some sort of equally comical protective bubble (You would have to see it to believe it), a store called Money 4 "Nothing" (which had in small print next to it "+ tax"), etc. I'm currently in London's public library. I don't know where I'll be tonight, but I'd like to hang around London if I can.